Thin Line
by Shini02
Summary: Oneshot. There's a very thin line between love and hate, and sometimes you're just meant to be stuck in the middle. Yaoi, Trowa BartonxNo–Name.


**Disclaimer:** I just own this fic, nothing more or less. So don't sue me. Please?

**A/N:** Yes, you read the summary right, it _is_ a Trowa Barton x No-Name fic. Why? Because I felt like trying my hand at an alternate pairing. Yes, this will probably get me maimed and flamed by fangirls, but I don't really care - I dare to be different, muaha!

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**Thin Line**

The first time Trowa laid eyes on the young mechanic called No-Name, he was intrigued to say the very least. The way the younger male stared at Trowa made his blood run cold; those deep green, lifeless eyes bore right into his soul and shattered it in an instant. When the young enigma spoke for the first time, Trowa felt his body shudder under the clothes he wore. Listening to No-Name introduce himself was like listening to the wind; a soft monotone wafting through the room, causing the slightest disturbance in Trowa's body, easily missed by the untrained eye. And when No-Name walked away after his introduction, Trowa watched those young hips sway until No-Name was out of sight. Trowa had then abandoned his work and followed No-Name to the quarters had been assigned to.

"What do you want?" No-Name had asked, his hand fisted on the doorknob, caught in mid-turn.

"Tell me about yourself," Trowa said, leaning against the wall beside No-Name's room, arms crossed over his chest and a smug smirk on his lips.

"There's nothing to tell," No-Name replied, finishing the turn of the doorknob and heading into his quarters without giving Trowa a second glance. He locked the door behind him, and the soft _click_ angered the young man; No-Name obviously had not known just who he was dealing with. No one denied Trowa Barton what he wanted. _No one_.

Days later, Trowa tried again, this time being much more demanding. He had the younger boy shoved up against a wall in an empty hallway, one hand on either side of his head.

"You blew me off the other day," Trowa said through gritted teeth. No-Name said nothing, so Trowa continued speaking. "That was rude of you."

"I have things to do," No-Name said, ignoring the potential threat in Trowa's voice.

"It can wait," Trowa said quickly, hands dropping lower to rest on No-Name's shoulders and hold on tightly.

"I'm afraid not, the adjustments _I_ need to make on _your_ mobile suit can't be put on hold. Doktor S–"

"The old bastard can wait," Trowa said and gripped No-Name's shoulders a little tighter still. "This is more important."

"Those instructions came directly from your father," No-Name said and released himself from Trowa's grasp easily, using the moment the older man paled at the mention his father to his advantage. It would have been a shame if Trowa had disobeyed his father. "Now, if you'll excuse me," No-Name mumbled quietly as he pushed Trowa aside and left the older man fuming in the afterglow of his second rejection in less than a week.

That night, Trowa had run into No-Name again. He glared at the stoic young man, muttered a few curses under his breath and quickly walked away. Trowa learned quickly that No-Name had a nasty habit of going through with rejection in a casual way – a cruel way – that made Trowa want him all the more. Trowa hated the fact that a kid had easily managed to get him wrapped around his little finger. And Trowa couldn't have that, he had to decide once and for all how he felt, he had to draw a line between infatuation and loathing.

Over the course of a few more days, Trowa had No-Name's smaller frame standing perfectly still under his weight (lightened by the low gravity); No-Name stared at a picture of Trowa's sister and her daughter, while Trowa stared at No-Name's face. He hated the way those dead eyes stared at the photograph held in their hands; he loved how dangerously close their fingers were, almost touching but the distance never closed in the end. Trowa pulled back from No-Name, placed the picture in his back pocket and watched the young mechanic disappear into the cockpit of the Gundam Heavyarms.

Trowa grunted quietly as he pushed himself into the low gravity and floated until he was able to peer into the cockpit, silently watching No-Name fiddle with the controls inside.

No-Name looked up, staring at Trowa with those dead eyes. "You're in the light," he mumbled then ducked his head again to continue working on the Gundam's controls.

Trowa's mouth opened to speak, the little restraint he had on his temper lost, but he never said a word. He merely glared at No-Name and shifted slightly to the side, allowing the younger boy the light he obviously needed to do the job Trowa's foundation was paying him for.

Trowa watched No-Name work inside Heavyarms' cockpit for a little while longer, smirking to himself.

Sometime within the last few weeks, Trowa had learned there was a very thin line between love and hate. It was a line he didn't mind crossing every now and then.

-End


End file.
